Wanting Will
by KissTheBoy7
Summary: Freddie stumbles upon something that Anatoly wants and he likes, more than a little bit. Freddie/Anatoly. Kings. M for a reason, kiddies. Oneshot.


Freddie doesn't remember when he'd agreed to this, exactly. He knows that he had, because Anatoly is always overly-concerned about his feelings - _is this okay? are you sure? … are you really sure? - _and even now, bent over his lap with his cheeks and his eyes stinging, Anatoly is stroking his hair anxiously as though trying to make up for it.

They've been together for almost a year, and in the dimly remembered honeymoon period of their sex life he thinks that he might recall mumbling his sleepy agreement to the nervous question sometime at three in the morning on a Sunday after an entire day of marathon sex that he wasn't sure he'd _ever _recover from.

It wasn't a big deal, honestly, but apparently it was to Anatoly.

He'd _wanted _this. Anatoly so rarely wanted anything special, never made requests unless he truly needed something.

Freddie can feel his erection straining his zipper just beneath his navel. He squeezes his eyes shut as that long-fingered hand cracks down on his right cheek again, rubbing, loving, pulling them apart. He feels him press his thumb to his aching, stretched hole and groans, pushing back on it desperately.

He was _so _ready, so fucking ready, Anatoly needs to take off his fucking pants and _soon _or he's going to-

The hand lifts again and he exhales, shaky and desperate as he anticipates the sting of it. _God. _He'd had no idea he could get so into this. Spanking. Didn't seem like his thing, at first thought, but everything is so intense and he can't stop himself from whimpering, rocking forward against Anatoly's thigh.

"Does it hurt?" he hears him ask, and even manages to feel a swell of fondness through the lust boiling in his veins at the underlying anxiety in his tone. God, he's so hard, and Anatoly's so hard, he _knows _it, he can _feel it -_

"Jesus Christ," he gasps, bucking down against him. The entirety of New York City could probably hear him, and he doesn't care, he just needs it, fuck, he needs it, he's _throbbing _for it, _"Please, _Tolya-" It comes out choked, almost like a sob. "_Fuck me."_

Humiliation colors his cheeks. He never begs, really, except for that one time and that had been _his _fantasy, he'd had it all planned out -

This isn't planned. Nothing about the way his head is spinning right now is planned. The heat flashing down his body isn't planned, the way his cock is rubbing on the denim, wetting it, slick and throbbing and _needy, _his nails digging into the bedspread just for something to hang onto while he thrusts down helplessly on his thigh.

He hears him curse in Russian, voice strangled, and suddenly he's being rolled onto his back, the sound of the zipper being yanked down all he can hear over his own groaning, grabbing for his shoulders, hardly even remembering the word patience, he doesn't have _time _for that, it _stings, _he _needs -_

"Fuck me, fuck - " He gasps, and his hips grind down on Anatoly's fingers the moment they're in him, clenching eagerly, his jaw slackening. Everything is so fucking sensitive and his ass is so raw and hot and rubbing on the sheets with every movement, hips arching up, _fuck, _what has he done -

"Fuck me _now," _he moans, the sound vibrating in his bones, bouncing from one brick wall to the next and probably down into every apartment above and below them.

Anatoly's movements are jerky, sudden, he's losing his careful grip on this whole thing, he asks, hysterically, "Are you sure?"

But he's already got his cock slicked and out and Freddie wraps his legs around his waist and pulls him down, pulls him in, panting already. _"Now," _he demands, and throws his head back with a long, obscene noise as Anatoly sinks so far into him he can't think of anything anymore, just heat and sweat and Anatoly's hot puffs of breath, rambling foreign words, desperate words, into his ear, reverent, grabbing his throbbing ass cheeks and squeezing and drawing him up closer while he fucks him, fuck, _FUCK -_

He screams when he comes, his whole body aching with orgasm. He's never come so much in his life. Anatoly makes a choked noise, rocking into him helplessly, desperately, as he tightens spastically around him.

His prostate is throbbing. His cock is throbbing. His _ass cheeks_ are throbbing.

Maybe Anatoly ought to want things more often.


End file.
